title: In Chains
fandom: Gundam Wing
characters/pairings: Heero/Duo, Quatre, Rashid
rating: Teen
warnings: monsters, bloodplay
summary: Heero finds himself inexorably drawn in (Bloody Kisses Ficlet)
notes: this is for Caroline, her Bloody Kisses Ficlet Giveaway offering. *hugs* ...and again, i strip duo naked in public. poor boy's getting used to it... the main image in this fic has been haunting me for a while now, so i'm glad to have found it a home. tho i'm not sure you can call this a ficlet...

The howling hound at the gate was an inauspicious herald, but better than none. The dull clang of metal against metal trumpeted his every step. The sky was still as black as pitch, but the line of the horizon was increasingly more distinct.

He had washed his hands in the blood of the weak up to his elbows that night. He dropped the soaking weapons and armor at the door, and proceeded on to the great hall without stopping. Around him, the yipping howls of lascivious fiends chased his ankles forward, but he took little heed of them.

Heero Yuy was well known as the fiercest hunter of any vampire clan, though few knew which clan, precisely, he belonged to, or who he was, really. His alignment with the Winner was less a matter of obligation or honor, and more a matter of practicality; the stronghold of the Winner clan, much maligned and much abused, stood upright at the borders of the world of mortal man, thus providing the hunter with ample prey.

Still, he did not care for certain aspects of life in the stronghold. The Winner himself was a decadent man, shrewd enough to make even Heero question his true age, but prone to bending to the whims of pleasure. The inner circle of the Winner clan, the Maganacs, were warriors without peer, but the Winner was a soft-hearted man, despite his viciousness to the enemy, and he allowed many sycophants to clog up his hallways and fill their bellies at his expense.

Heero had even less sympathy for a weak monster than he had for humanity; they should be better than that.

He made his way to the main hall, intent upon giving a report to the Winner before retiring to his rooms for another day. Heero believed in the traditional ways of the vampire, even going so far as to keep a coffin in his rooms, though he spent more nights in the bed.

The hall was a massive place, littered with long tables with benches filled with vampires and lower fiends as far as the eye could see. There was music most nights, and dancing, as well as drinking and eating. There was always some prey to be had, kept in stables until their use. Some were milked for their precious blood, and some were laid out on the tables for the slaughter. It was a disgrace, and every time Heero passed through here, he resolved to shorten his stay with the Winner. There was only so much a decent monster could take.

He bypassed the straggling crowds, and slapped back a few eager fools who were attracted to the smell of blood on his hands. He paused only briefly to dip his arms into the clear waters of the eternal fountain, and splash his face clean. The Winner was surprisingly fastidious, another reason to find him suspicious.

In fact, if Heero had not seen him in battle himself, he would not be able to believe the stories of the Winner's strength.

He took the stairs to the higher dais two at a time. The Winner's man, a stout, massive man by the name Rashid, nodded at Heero and slipped into the shadows to fetch his master. Heero scowled, annoyed; he hated to wait.

The scent caught his attention first. It was the scent of lilacs and jasmine, an odd combination that put Heero in the frame of mind for really enjoying his supper. His nose was more acute than the sharpest wolf's, and he found the source nearly instantly.

Chained to a cross at the top of the stairs, there was a boy. His arms were bound above his head, he was blindfolded and gagged, and he was half-naked, wearing only a tight pair of leather pants that laced up the sides. Heero licked his lips and moved up the stairs as if under a spell. He wasn't the only one, either; there were hoards watching the boy, milling about in the space below him, their hungry eyes devouring him greedily.

Heero was bolder than they, and more likely to catch his prey.

Humans generally held little sway with Heero; of course some vampires kept them as pets, suckling from them and pampering them, but, again, he preferred the traditional ways. The human beast was savage, and should be treated as such. They were their mortal enemies, and there was not a single human that would not kill a vampire if given the chance. Therefore, the logical thing to do would be to kill them quickly and efficiently. They did not need human blood to survive, after all, just blood. They could even sustain each other feeding off of themselves, if need be.

So it was with unfamiliar curiosity that Heero examined this human boy. He wore his hair in a long, thick braid that trailed down his side, a style that niggled at the back of Heero's mind, trying to remind him of something. He had been bound in chains massive enough to hold Heero himself still, which seemed odd given that he was only a human.

But it was the scent that was the thing. It drove Heero nearly mad, making him feel hot and cold all at once. He needed desperately to put his hands on the frail, slim body before him, to lay his palm flat against the smooth stomach, and run his fingers up the spine. He leaned in very close, and put his nose against the boy's neck, right where his hair began, and he breathed deeply.

The boy shivered and shook, bucking uselessly as he tried to angle out of the grip of his unknown admirer. Heero grinned from ear to ear.

"Ah, my lovely, I'll wager that you taste as sweet as honey. Do you not?"

The boy thrashed, but it was a futile gesture. Heero ran the sharp edge of his fingernail against the nub of the boy's nipple, cutting the sensitive skin just beneath. The boy screamed against his gag, and Heero threw back his head and laughed, a fearsome noise that sent the rabble scattering.

The boy could do nothing but shiver in his chains as Heero dipped his tongue down to taste the bright red blood that was gathering below the boy's nipple. Honey, sweet and pure, would be like acid on his tongue next to this boy's blood. No, Heero had never tasted anything so sweet or so desirable, and he was consumed with urges he only scarcely began to comprehend. His hands were not large enough to cover enough of the boy's skin, and he had to tear away the offensive leather that kept him from even more of the sweet flesh for which he lusted.

He was oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to the muffled cries and desperate movements of the boy, oblivious to everything but the satisfaction that came from feeding his need. He slipped his hand between the boy's legs and bent his mouth down to nip at the soft inner thighs, so musky and fragrant. He dragged his nails over the boy's stomach, and licked it clean again. He kissed and suckled the boy's chin, dancing his fingers over the boy's chest and back.

"My, my..." drawled a voice behind him. "What a sight this is. Don't tell me the great Heero Yuy has found something he desires?" Quatre Winner grinned cheekily as he lazily drew his fingers through his pet's hair. She ignored him, acting as if she were not bound by a leash, her manner as arrogant as her master's. "And something that is mine... oh, me, oh, my, what a thing!"

Heero did not intend to draw his arms around the boy possessively, or shield the boy from Quatre's appreciative gaze with his body. These things were purely instinctual. "The western gate has been disabled. Three full squadrons have been put down this night. Who is this?"

Quatre's eyes were like light streaming through an aquarium. "Ah, such fun! Oh, some day I will have to join you on your adventures! If I could just slip past my guard..." Quatre winked at a seriously displeased Rashid, ignoring Heero's scowl. When it became clear that Heero would do nothing but scowl, Quatre relented. "This is a little mouse, nothing more, I'm afraid, although he is a very interesting mouse... He is a spy, in fact, who had been helping us gather data on the mortal's armies, a little sewer rat who was more than happy to help flush out a common oppressor, but unfortunately, he valued his labors a might bit greater than I did, and he was caught pinching from my coffers."

Heero glanced at his chosen with new appreciation. It had been well known for centuries that no one lived who crossed a Winner. This one must have greater fortitude, or greater foolishness, than was apparent.

"And the great joke of it was that we would never have caught him had he not stopped on his way out to help Abdul with a wounded horse. He very nearly got entirely away!"

The boy squirmed in Heero's arms, and Heero tightened his grip. For a moment, he felt something thrum inside of him, and it was almost as if he could feel the boy's heart pounding in his own chest.

"What do you intend to do to him?"

Quatre tilted his head to the side, rubbing his hand down his pet's bare back. "I hadn't quite decided. Seems a pity to kill something so clever. The ancient ways would say that a thief should have his hands cut off, but I can think of some fine uses of those hands." Quatre leered at the boy, moving his hands around to the front of his pet to grip her breasts through the flimsy fabric of her halter.

Heero snarled. "Give him to me."

Quatre was nonplused. "Are you making a demand or a request?" He smirked at Heero's lack of response. "Tell you what, why don't you take a closer look at your prize. Remove his blindfold."

The boy gasped; Heero could feel it, but it only served to excite him more. He reached up, running his fingers into the thick hair that surrounded the thick velvet band, and he pulled the cloth away from the boy's eyes.

Purple. Violet. Lilac. Lavender. Every shade up to plum, dancing in the peerless eyes of the most perfect boy Heero had ever seen. Heero did not need air to breathe, but he still drew in his breath as he stared into the eyes. "He is of the Wandering kin, the lost folk of southern tribes."

Quatre smirked, not bothering to hide his glee as Heero was not looking at him at all. "Indeed. Take care, now, Heero, for it is said that they can enthrall with a glance, and that their voices weave a binding spell that will ensnare even the sharpest of mages. They are said to be avatars for the dead gods, and that they can channel great power through their bodies when need be. They are a powerful clan, which is why they have been hunted for millennia, but even still, their numbers are not depleted entirely. Their only weakness is that they can each be sealed to one person, and once they are sealed, they can never betray that one person again."

Heero was only half-listening to Quatre ramble on, his attention devoted to his beloved prey. Those eyes beseeched and begged, and Heero was frantic to answer their call. He buried his teeth into that supple neck, and it was like a tidal wave of crashing pleasure, each swallow compounding upon the last until he could no longer bear the bliss and he had to break away. The boy, whose name was Duo, Heero was sure of it, slumped in his arms but did not fall, his eyes still open if heavy lidded.

He did not break his precious' gaze to snarl at Quatre. "He is mine, now. Release him."

Quatre bowed his head and opened his hand, allowing it. Rashid and Abdul both appeared at his elbows, protesting, but Quatre shushed them with a glance. Keys were produced, and another guard unlocked the chains, letting Duo fall into Heero's ready arms.

Heero slipped Duo's arms around his neck, and lifted the boy up to carry him away.

Quatre spoke quickly, before Heero was gone entirely. "Be careful, Heero, with the gag. Mind my words, he is not as vulnerable as you may think."

Heero grunted and carried Duo away. He did not need fairy tales. He had everything he needed in his arms.

He was drunk off the sweet blood, the heady scent of the boy making him wild, reckless. He snarled and spat at anyone who even remotely came near them. He slammed the door to his chamber shut behind him with his foot, and practically threw his cargo onto the bed, catapulting himself after. He covered the boy, enveloping him in his consuming passion. He punctuated each taste with a pledge. "You are mine."

He could feel the boy's capitulation, the way his body stopped tensing and just gave into the embraces. The boy's arousal stood firm as a testimony of Heero's victory. There was only one thing left to do.

He ripped the gag away from his own's mouth, and pillaged inside as he took his first kiss. He stared down into the fathomless depths of Duo's perfect eyes, and swore to him. "You are mine."

Duo grinned, licking the blood off his lips. He reached up to tangle his fingers into Heero's hair. "Yes. As you are mine."

Heero's eyes widened, and he smiled.





Quatre laughed deeply, loud and hard, watching Heero race off with his lover. He dipped his hands down, to plunder his pet between her legs. It was shaping up to be a wonderful night. "Rashid! Take ten of your best men, and drape yourselves in our finest cloaks. Deliver food, livestock, and six casks of gold to the St. Maxwell Home for the Unwanted."

Rashid sputtered. "Master! Not only do you let the infidel go free, but you are now giving his people ten times what he tried to steal?"

Quatre grinned. "Rashid, this is business, trust me. Upstairs, our favorite killer is being tied down to a swift and able spy, who is simultaneously being tied down to him. If we offer goodwill to our friends, they will have nothing to offer us but goodwill in turn. And Rashid, do not forget the story that I tried to tell Heero, for it is true. Can you guess which god our little thief is an avatar for?"

Rashid looked back up the stairs balefully. In many ways, he was like Heero; he preferred plain-dealing villains whenever possible. "Which?"

"Death." Quatre smirked. "With those two on our side, who can stand against us?"

Rashid sighed, and submitted to his master's wisdom. It was always the easiest way.








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